The Tarot Card Series
by Eryessa
Summary: This is a writing prompt to help me create something new for writing purposes. It is based off the tarot cards, with a different superstar for each chapter. This is for entertainment purposes, no other reason except for a new way to write short stories. Update: Drew McIntyre and John Cena
1. Prologue

This was an idea that I had, trying to find a new writing style and finding a creative way to do it. My process is stranger than normal but inspiration and muses come in all different forms. I'm sorry if some of you don't know what I'm talking about, but this seems like a fun thing to do, even for five minutes at a stretch. I found this from a book called Tarot for Writers by Corrine Kenner. I just use this book for reference only, to help with writing ideas.

I use the Major Arcana, like The High Priestess, the Empress and The Hanged Man cards, to represent certain aspects of the Superstars in the stories. I shuffle and when I feel like the top card is the one I choose it, but if say one 'jumps' out of the deck, then that is the one that I want to use.

The Minor Arcana is the bulk of the cards in the deck. I use these to decide the situation that the signifiers are on. This is something like the three of cups, or the King of Swords, something like that. The process of choosing the Situation card is similar to as the Signifiers: shuffle and when I feel the top card is the one, or when one 'jumps' out, that is the one I use.

Once I have found the Signifier and the Situation cards I use their symbolism for what the story is going to be. Coming up with the ideas are hard. Each superstar will have a Signifier and a Situation card posted with each chapter. I only have a few in mind, but feel free to add in requests for either certain superstars or even certain tarot cards.

Also, on a personal note: **I AM NOT A FORTUNE TELLER**. I don't do divination with tarot cards. I have two decks that I don't use at all. This method I came up with is for writing purposes only.

So let's begin:

Deep Breathe, center and let's see who is first on the agenda…


	2. Temperance

**I own nothing, nothing, I just own the ideas. **

* * *

Superstar: Justin Gabriel

Signifier Card: Temperance: Balance, moderation, combination, The Guardian Angel

Situation Card: Ten of Pentacles: family life, loss, household; or disharmony, discord, strife...Legacy

* * *

He had been running for some time now. It was early evening, just as the sun was setting. This was supposed to be a day like any other day, but not to him. The South African Stunner was remembering a tragedy that happened, something that made him question himself as a person.

Questioned why his father had to drink that day when Paul Lloyd Jr. was only eighteen years old. Questioned why Paul Sr. decided to drink and drive.

PJ, as he preferred to be called, came to a stop at a corner in the sidewalk he was going to cross the road when something caught his attention. He was standing under some oak trees that lined a park in Tampa.

"I haven't been in this area before." He said looking around.

Sure he hadn't, his mind was on the anniversary of his father's death to realize that he had gone farther north of where he usually went, by about a mile. Scanning around, PJ's attention was caught when he saw a father and a son playing American football in the park. This was something he missed.

"Vader, why did you have to leave me?" PJ asked stepping up underneath one of the oak trees, leaning against the rough bark. "I miss you so much."

The wind started to pick up, tossing PJ's perfect hair to and fro as if it were nothing.

Memories flooded him. Memories of when everything was alright, when it was fun to be with his father.

One that was prominent was when PJ was ten years old, and wanted to learn to wrestle just like his Pa, his vader, or father in Afrikaans.

* * *

_Paul Sr. looked at the young boy who was growing fast._

_"You want to learn," he says, laughing boisterously. "You show me what you already know."_

_They were standing in a ring at an outdoor park, much like the one PJ was standing in remembering, and that was when PJ found out what it meant to be a real wrestler. For hours PJ and Paul Sr. practiced together, PJ learning the proper ways to fall down on the ring. Like curling the head and learning to take a chest slap._

* * *

But PJ's memories lapsed to darker times, to the times when Paul Sr. suffered from his own sins. PJ learned early on that alcohol was okay, but in moderation, to balance the need to drink with the need to do something else.

* * *

_PJ's mother, always known as Ma, asked her son to go to the local pub that was up the street, to get Paul Sr. It was supper time and Paul Sr. hadn't returned. PJ went out, a fresh faced sixteen year old. He ran down the street, his usual nature since he was on the school's rugby and football (soccer) teams. PJ was going to learn the dangers of alcohol first hand._

_"Vader," PJ said, walking up to the man at the bar. "Vader, Moeder said its time to come home." He shook his father's shoulder, trying to get Paul Sr.'s attention._

_"No, go home, boy." Paul Sr. said, shoving the boy's hand from his shoulder._

_"But Vader, it's time to go. Moeder made your favorite meal." PJ touched his father's shoulder._

_That seemed to snap something. Standing up, man met boy face to face. PJ didn't have a chance to anticipate the strike. The back of Paul Sr.'s hand struck PJ's face with such force the teenager stumbled back slightly._

_"Go home, boy. This is a man's place, not a boy's."_

_Blood trickled from PJ's mouth where his father's ring had connected with his skin. Drunkards were laughing at the look on the young South African's face, calling him a little boy, not a man but a boy. In age he was a child but PJ felt like a man. He left feeling like he had failed his mother, himself even._

_The family had fallen on hard times, with Paul Sr. suffering a career ending fractured back. He had healed physically, but emotionally he was a scarred man. He refused to go back to wrestling, promoting was being held out to him but Paul Sr. wanted back in the ring but neglected a wife and his son._

* * *

Shaking his head, PJ hadn't realized that he had been day dreaming, remembering memories that he had tried to hide.

"Vader, why did you have to drive drunk that night?" PJ asked while pushing himself off of the tree. "Why couldn't you have been strong to live to support me now?"

The father and son in the park were packing it in, ready to head home for dinner. The sun was getting low now, dusk was on the way and PJ declared that it was time to leave as well. In an attempt to turn around, to head south back homeward, PJ stopped when he heard the boy call out to him.

"Mister, hey mister! Are you Justin Gabriel?" The boy was standing on one side of the street, PJ on the other.

"I am." PJ smiled slightly, enjoying that his attention was drawn away from the harsh memories of his childhood.

"Dad, can I go shake Mr. Gabriel's hand?"

"Sure, kiddo, but look both ways when you cross." The father said opening the trunk of the white sadan.

The street wasn't big, just big enough for cars to park on the curb and still have enough room for cars to drive along. The boy looked both ways as PJ waited patiently on the other side of the street. When the boy did get over to him, PJ held out his hand.

"I'm sorry if I'm sweaty," the boy said. "I've been playing football with my dad."

"I'm probably sweaty too, I've been running for two hours now." PJ responded, looking at the boy's brown eyes. "Best be getting home, supper time soon, wouldn't it?"

"Oh yeah, we're having spaghetti tonight. Have a nice day, Mr. Gabriel."

But something was off, something that felt familiar at the same time. The sound of a motor came closer, too fast, down the road. Even if the boy had looked, he was in the middle of the street by the time that a large green SUV came rolling through the area. It had hit a trash can before veering towards the left, right towards the boy. The boy, he was standing in the path of a monster.

"Christopher!" The father yelled, but couldn't reach the boy fast enough.

All he saw one moment was his son standing in the road, then the SUV passed where he had been and then...

PJ had reached out in time, grabbed the boy by the arm, and pulled him back between a truck and another car parked on the curb. He had both arms wrapped around the boy's body, his back to the road, protecting the boy from any danger. Luckily for everyone, the SUV hadn't turned to the right, where they had been huddled together. PJ stood up, placing his hands on Christopher's shoulders and looked around. The SUV had turned off, heading towards a more populated street, which was followed by a large crash.

"Go to your Vader." The South African said, looking at the boy.

Off in a sprint PJ ran, taking the left street the SUV had gone towards. At this point he had his cell phone out, ready to call for an ambulance. All he saw was the SUV smashed up against a tree next to the main road. The driver's side door was ajar, dislodged in the crash more than likely, and the man in the driver's seat slumped over the steering wheel. Others, who had seen the crash, were coming to see what was wrong and to see if they could help.

"Is he alive?" Christopher's father asked, coming up behind PJ.

"He is but barely. At least he wore a seatbelt." PJ replied. "Make sure he doesn't move, I'm calling for help."

Dialing 911, PJ stood with Christopher, a hand on the boy's shoulder, trying to keep him from seeing anything. After he had given the area where the crash happened to the 911 operator, and informing them that the driver was intoxicated, he hung up. Not even six minutes later the first police officers were on the scene. And then the boy asked a question PJ was all too familiar with.

"Mr. Gabriel, why was the man driving like that?"

"He was drunk, he shouldn't have been driving if he was drinking."

The boy's brown eyes looked up at him. "Can people die from drunk driving?"

"Yes, they can." PJ nodded, sighing at the all too familiar scene.

"Then I'm not ever going to drink."

"You have to have balance in your life. Weigh the good with the bad. If you drink, don't drive. Drink in moderation too, you have to be level headed to do things." PJ said.

Christopher suddenly smiled. "Then you really are an angel, you protected me."

It was true, he really was an angel. To some more than others.


	3. The Fool

**I'm changing this one up a bit. While trying to find a Signifier and a Situation card, these just sort of jumped out of nowhere.**

* * *

Drew McIntyre: The Fool, 6 of Pentacles and Six of Swords

* * *

**The Fool:** Keywords

**Upright: **new beginnings, fresh starts, innocence, freedom, originality, eccentricity, adventure, idealism, youth, enthusiasm, excitement, daring, bravery, spontaneity, initiative, invention

**Reversed: **folly, foolishness, mania, ineptitude, carelessness, stupidity, negligence, distraction, aimless, flighty, unfocused, unmotivated

**6 of Pentacles: **Keywords

**Upright:** business, commerce, trade, charity, presents, gifts, favors

**Reversed:** envy, jealousy, unsatisfied, ambition, class warfare, taxation without representation, forced redistribution of wealth

**Six of Swords:** Keywords

**Upright:** transition, journey, voyage, travel by water

**Reversed:** stasis, delay, permanence

* * *

The Fool he was. One mistake, a very public one, and he nearly lost it all. It could have been worse when he could have lost his job with the WWE. No, all he did was loose his standing.

Drew Galloway, or Drew McIntyre, was not where he had once stood.

"You're a fool, Drew." He had heard his sister's voice say, time and again when he called home to Scotland.

Sleep never came well to him, pain did though. He fractured his hand, demoting him further.

"Bloody waste of time." He mumbled standing ankle deep in the cool waters off the coast of Florida.

"Time can't be wasted, can it?" She asked, causing the Scotsman to turn around in shock.

He hadn't expected anyone to be there, he had thought that watching the setting sun would be his own personal thing, from the coast at least. Tampa was on the West side of the Florida state, looking West towards Texas at the Gulf of Mexico. This was his spot, this was where he came, a place where hardly anyone else came at this time of day.

This woman, this woman was, she didn't look anything too special. She was considerably shorter than he, thick in built but not overly fat. She was carrying some ratty old tennis shoes in one hand. She wore black shapeless jeans and a tank top. On her back was a backpack with a raven keychain and a small dog at her ankle, a beagle kind of dog. Her long dark blonde hair was being held low on her head and she had some sort of necklace on but couldn't see it's design.

"But time is endless, what you can't finish here, continues on in the next." She shrugged and started walking again.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

Drew was pissed that someone had the gull to walk into his personal space and tell him something so foolish, foolhardy as time and space.

"Well, you obviously don't know how to look where you're going. If you do, then you can see where you're going." She smiled, her makeup less face shining slightly in the fading light.

"I have no bloody idea what you're talking about, lassie. It's best to mind your own business." He turned from the alluring woman and went back to looking at the ocean.

He turned back around to tell her to leave but she was standing next to him, so silent and unassuming. Her dog was a distance away, resting in the sand.

"How do you prove to everyone you have what it takes anymore?" She asked. "You can't prove to others unless you prove to yourself first."

"Who are you?" Drew asked, looking at the shorter woman next to him.

"I'm a fool, just like you." She responded.

"I'm not a fool!" He all but yelled, even as he raised his voice she didn't seem to be interested in him. Her gaze was on the ocean.

"A fool knows nothing at the start of the journey. He can only guess where he will be going. The future isn't set in stone. Sure he'll make mistakes but he learns to deal with them. From one time to another, he'll learn where to go, what to do and know just how to do it. But at the start, there is always a start and a finish, but the middle is not always set." Her words washed over him. This strange woman, whose name was a mystery to him, stood there, talking to him like she cared, when no one else who actually did care didn't truly show it. His friends, his parents, family, coworkers, they all thought that he had screwed up his career.

"Maybe I have." He said out loud, mostly to himself. "I screwed up my marriage, I bloody screwed up my career as a professional wrestler. No one wants me around, they care but they tell me all the time how badly I bloody screwed up. It gets worse and worse. The more I try, one step of succeeding, I fall two steps behind. I just broke my damn hand, I can't wrestle, I can't do much of anything. Even my mates have seen me as a lost cause. I'm floating alone out here." Drew raised his arms in the air, making a wide motion, indicating to the ocean that was steadily rising around them.

"Is that why you take solace with the ocean?"

"Aye, I do. She won't talk badly to me."

The woman smiled. "She is a mother herself, you know. She births the lands, she dances with the moon at different times, if you listen hard, you can hear singing in her waves."

They stood there, two strangers, listening to a sound so old it was comforting.

"What's your name, lassie, I really want to know?"

"I'm Morgan, Mogan Fata." She smiled at him.

"I'm Andrew Galloway, but I like Drew."

"Andrew means man or warrior." She stated, her pants now more soaked than before. "I guess with your profession you have to be a warrior, aren't you?"

"Aye, and I'm from Scotland. I have to honor my people some way."

"My family is from Ireland, the old ways still permeates over there sometimes." She smiled.

"Fata doesn't sound Irish."

She just smiled, she laughed and shook her head. "I don't expect you to understand."

"Were you just swimming?"

"Yes. I decided to come in."

"It looks like you're not drying off."

She laughed more, something he was getting used to. "It's fun to swim in the ocean, it's relaxing. But I wouldn't do it now, the sharks are out."

"Aye, I watch shark week to know that. Do you like sharks?"

They talked, more and more, just getting to know each other. The ocean was coming in further and further, even as the waves were almost pushing them over they stayed in that one spot.

"I best be going." Drew stated maybe an hour later. "Would you like to come to my house?"

"No, I have places to go and people to see." She smiled walking further from the surf with him.

"What about your dog?"

"That's not my dog. He's been following me. No tags or anything and I can't care for him." She frowned, which intrigued him.

Without asking, with no warning, Drew leaned down and kissed her, kissed Morgan. It felt so right, it felt so natural. Even if it felt a little wet to him, he could feel her smiling into the kiss.

"This feels right." He said, resting his forehead against hers.

"So it seems now." Her voice was low. Morgan slinked her arm up and pulled him down for another kiss.

They became one on this abandoned stretch of beach. They made love in the surf, the roar of the waves drowning out their moans of pleasure. At the weakest part of the waves, Drew buried his worries and concerns, in the passion he felt. As the night dragged on, and sleep soon overtook the Scotsman, Drew slept with the woman at his side. But when the sun rose, he didn't wake to the woman, he woke to the dog.

The beagle was licking his face and whimpering.

"Bloody hell, get away from me." Drew groaned, lightly shoving the dog away.

"Magnum, Magnum, where are you!" A woman, a woman that wasn't Morgan called out.

Now this woke Drew. He looked down at himself, but he was wearing his trunks from the day before. His hair was all sorts of messed up, making him look like a savage than a warrior. The dog yowled in glee and ran away, up the beach towards the person he heard calling out. Letting his eyes adjust to the light, Drew saw a woman in a pair of Daisy Duke cut off jean shorts, and even a plaid red and white bikini top. She was blonde, she had the accent, she had his attention.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." She smiled, her southern drawl poking out. "I was visiting my cousin Heath, and Magnum got away last night. I'm Lilly Miller." She said once she had walked up to Drew as he stood. "Oh, you're Drew."

"You know me?" He asked trying to straighten out his hair.

"Yeah, my cousin is Heath Slater. He's introduced me to some of the superstars that work in the WWE with him. But…" She looked down at the dog who was now on a leash. "I guess you were too busy to come out to the club two days ago."

"I wasn't invited. I don't have much friends anymore."

"Oh, well now you have me." She smiled brightly. "Come on, Steph is making breakfast. I can say you found Magnum and I am treating you to breakfast as a reward. I thought my dog was going to be gone forever."

"I don't…"

"Please, please, I really would like you to. Maybe a good breakfast will get your mind off of the crap you're going through right now." Lilly reached down and grabbed his forgotten shirt, shook it off and handed it to him. "Don't tell Heath, but I've always liked Europeans, they are more cultured than American men."

Drew had to smile at her.

It was strange, he forgot her. He forgot about Morgan Fata in the moments of waking up. At first he thought he had been drunk and dreamt of sleeping with a woman, but as he talked to Lilly, and walked with her towards her cousin's home, he just forgot all of his problems.

And Morgan stood smiling. The illusion that she was, she smiled knowing some day soon, he was going to find his path, that he was no longer going to be the Fool that he was.


	4. Judgement

**Oddly, this one was the easiest for me to write and I have no idea why, and he's not even one of my favorite superstars. Word of Warning: it does have the topic of paganism in it.**

* * *

John Cena:

Signifier: Judgement- **Upright: **Change, renewal, rebirth, resurrection, reawakening, consciousness, compassion, forgiveness, karma, destiny, responsibility **Reversed:** stasis, weakness, indecision, delay, an unwillingness to forgive and move on.

Situation: Queen of Pentacles- **Upright:** a 'dark' woman, wealth, security, generosity, magnificence, confidence, candor **Reversed:** evil, suspicion, suspense, fear, mistrust, suspicion.

* * *

Resurrecting something old is not always easy, to some it's sort of hard. It was something he had to do, he knew he had to. This was something he had to do, to understand, to know why he was going to her.

When he had time, John went to Boston, after visiting his ever growing family of course. The niece that he hardly ever got to see, the brothers, his parents, everyone that he left for a life on the road, he came to see. But there was one person, a person he hadn't seen since high school, that made him wonder something, was he so wrong to have done that?

She had been different, she had always been different. Amber was the one girl with her nose in a horror book and a pentagram around her neck. Witch, Satanist, any derogatory word would describe her. She was dark, dark colored clothing and hardly a trace of make up. Yet, with all the teasing and all the bullying, she was different than the rest of the outcasts, which weren't a lot, at his school.

As he sat on the bench, as the early darkness of October started to shroud around him, he went back into his memories.

* * *

"Why do you wear that pentagram?" John asked her.

They were sitting in his living room, where they were doing a research project together, oddly enough on the Salem Witch Trials that happened in 1692. The necklace in question was tucked loosely under her shirt, while I more dominant one, a pewter treskele Celtic Knot pendant lay over the base of her neck. Out of respect for his family, she said, when she came over.

"It's a sign of my beliefs as a pagan." She said, scribbling notes.

"You're a witch, though, right?"

"Not all witches are pagan and not all pagans are witches." She responded, eyes glancing at him. "It depends on what an individual feels to label themselves." She said. "Now tell me, John. You're a Catholic, am I right?"

"Yeah, everyone in my family is, why?"

"There's Mary, over there." She pointed to the statue his mother kept next to fireplace. "Why is she here?"

"She watches over us boys. Mom needs an extra set of eyes on us."

"So she prays to the Virgin Mary to watch over you, yet she also prays to God to do the same." He nodded, uncertain where she was getting at. "What difference does it make if I pray to Morrigan for protection, or Thor, oh I know, Kali. How is it praying to saints is better than asking a goddess for protection, or a god of a warrior status?"

He couldn't answer it.

"Some people believe that anything they don't understand is wrong. Is it wrong to freely think for yourself, to believe the way you want to believe? I mean you listen to that rap music, I prefer classical and Goth metal. Put the two together and you get some sort of weird Gothic Beethoven that's strangely attractive. But once you get to understand, they you are open to other things, being aware that not everything is as it seems. Some of it is a mirage that has been put up to hold you in one place."

"A mirage; is that what you think Christianity is?"

"No, definitely not. I still pray to the angels. Yeah I know, strange but true." She wanted to laugh at the expression on his face. "Look," she tossed her pencil aside and put down her notebook so that she was leaning on her knees to look at him. "I see the world differently, John. People think that because I worship a deity that has antlers, not horns, then I am praying to Satan. I'm going to give you an assignment, I want you to figure out who I am talking about. I want to see how much you think you know before actually speaking to me about it. Think of it as a test."

"Fine, I'll play, what is it?"

"I'm going to describe a deity to you. You're going to figure out who I am describing and I want you tell me. As I said earlier, I worship a god with antlers. He is known to hang out with dogs. He is of the earth and a hunter. He mates with his consort, the goddess at a holiday called Beltane, E. He then dies on Halloween but is reborn again at Yule, Y U L E. Think long and hard about the clues, I want you the figure it out. But until then, no more religious talk unless it's for homework."

"Yeah, whatever." John said going back to his work load.

What annoyed him about this girl, rather than being a bright blonde like so many of the other girls, she didn't dye her hair, she kept it as it had been, a light brown color with odd deep blue eyes that were hiding behind a pair of glasses. Yes she stood out from the rest of the school, because she was the only so called 'witch' in school but because she never looked like the snide comments or even some of the physical things affected her.

* * *

Then Be A Star happened, and it brought around a memory that he had long suppressed in his mind.

* * *

He saw her, he had seen the dark color wearing girl, Amber, sitting alone in a park. It was strange, it was summer and she was wearing long sleeves. John had been on his way to a friend's house, which he had to cut through this one park that not a lot of people went to except for the stoners and drug users. That's when he saw Amber, sitting alone under an oak tree, with something in front of her. Her back was leaning against the tree, her hands resting on her knees, and head slightly tilted up. Even though she was looking up the way she was, he could see a bruise forming on the side of her eye. So that's why those girls were gathered around at the side of the school, it had been a fight after all.

"They weren't fooling you, John." Her voice was neutral. "They each were taking swings at me."

"What are you doing?" He asked, coming a little closer, to see what looked like a bowl in front of her. "What's this?"

"Basil, an offering to the Earth because I'm taking her own energy to heal me," Amber said, not even opening her eyes.

"Why would they take swings at you?"

"Fear can do a lot of damage to the guilty and the innocent. My parents are taking me out of the private school and will be putting me into a public school."

"Why, well aside from the whole witch thing?"

"That's the point, the school board doesn't want a witch in the student body so they decided to let me stay until the end of this semester so that way my parents can enroll me into a public school."

"Oh, well, I hope you have better luck there." He paused and did something he never expected to do, he sat in front of her, knees touching knees and then put his hands in hers. "You can take some of my energy if you want."

"No, I'm not a vampire." She took her hands from his and stared at him. "I don't need your pity, John."

"I'm not pitying you, Amber. Look, I want to understand, and unlike what a lot of people are saying about you, you're a cool chick. Our school only based itself on the football team. You won that writer's contest, you're way ahead of me, you've already got a scholarship to Illinois State. I'm still not sure what I want to do with my life."

"What is your dream, John?" She pressed. "What is it that you want most in your life? Don't listen to your parents and don't listen to what you hear your parents, your family say you should do, what is your heart telling you? What is your deepest desire, John Anthony Felix Cena, what is your dream?"

"I want to be a professional wrestler, but…"

"No Disclaimers, none of that. You will only drag yourself down if you start adding buts into the sentences."

Her blue eyes stared into his. Now she was leaning towards him, faces close, even if he outsized her by his bulk and build. They stared at each other, blue against blue, sky against the dark ocean, probing the other, seeing what either of them would do. It wasn't her that moved, except it was him. John Cena, star football player for his high school team, leaned in and kissed the Witch of West Newbury. Deep down he was shocked, and pleased. Even if the kiss itself didn't last long, it was long enough for him.

"Won't Liz be mad at you?" Amber asked, anger flowering on her voice. "I don't sleep around for a reason, John. I'm not a harlot and I don't go sleeping with other girls' boyfriends.

"I, I…I'm not going to lie, I liked that kiss. But I have to go, my buds are waiting for me at a friend's place." He stood up. "I hope you have better luck with public school."

"John," he stopped when he heard her voice, softer and gentler this time. "I still want you to solve the assignment I gave you."

"Yeah right, you know I've never been one for homework."

* * *

"John?" He heard her voice, he thought he was imagining things, but he didn't.

Amber's hair whipped around her, long now than when he had last seen her and she was still the small thing that she was compared to him. The black cloths was still there but in a style that wasn't too much gothic but more feminized. She wore black boots over some black leggings, a black jacket over a red top, from what he could tell. His eyes settled at the base of her throat, where that necklace of hers had been. It wasn't there.

"Amber, I…" He stood up, his build blocking her from the wind that surrounded them.

"Coming back to your old haunting grounds? Resurrecting old memories, visiting your past?"

He didn't know what to say, not seeing her since they were like fourteen, twenty-one years of not having to think about her…until.

"I figured you would be a pagan still." John was surprised that he used the word she had used so long ago, remembering something she had mentioned to him.

"I am." She smiled reaching into her pocket and pulling out the pewter pendant. "The chain broke, I'm bringing it to a friend to fix it but I decided to come to West Newbury for some reason instead. I heard about your success with the WWE. I knew you would make your dreams come true."

"I did what you told me, no disclaimers. How have things been going with you," he asked as he fell in step with her.

"I went to college early, I took head start classes, mainly English courses, and I got a degree in folklore and comparative religions. I also took some business classes and opened an occult coffee shop over on 13th Street in Boston."

"And your personal life, any boyfriends, husbands…"

"No, none that struck my fancy. Met a few pagan men in my day but like attracts like, but even when the saying that opposites attract, it seems difficult."

They had made it to the oak tree that John had seen her the last time. The time when she was bruised and alone, with no friends and no one that would listen to her.

"How was public school, after you left?"

"I met another girl that was like me, a pagan. We started hanging out and became blood sisters. Did a ritual where we joined blood together and swore that if one should leave before the other, then we would take care of everything from their lives, husbands, children, stuff like that."

"Let me guess, she died?" He cringed at the coldness of his words, cold like the wind whipping around them and the tree.

"Her and her husband, I've been taking care of her daughter," Amber pointed off towards a slide where a raven haired girl was playing with what looked to be a teddy bear. "I'm Auntie Amber to Juliet, Julie actually. Her mom was a big Shakespearean fanatic. They thought Julie was going to be a boy and lucky for her, she came close to being called Romeo."

"So you're a mom, now?"

"Since she was one year old." Amber looked down.

"Are you raising her to be a witch?"

"Gods help me, no. My parents didn't. If she asked me questions, sure I answer honestly and truthfully as I can, but I'm not going to deny her curiosity of such things. I will let her watch wrestling though, it puts her to sleep at nine because the talking just sort of makes her nod off. I have to warn you, she's not a fan of the faces."

"She isn't?" Now John was smiling.

"Oh honey, she's a heel lover. Come hell or high water, every chance she got, she'd be watching Barrett belittle you and agree all the way with him. But I keep telling her that you guys are like actors, you follow scripts. And I quote 'I don't care, if I was named after an English play, I'm going to vote for the Englishman.' End quote. She will make one exception to the rule now that Sheamus is a face, and I wholeheartedly agree with her. He's got some fine looking legs."

John just cuts loose in laughter, his voice being carried on the wind as he leaned against the tree. The lone girl on the play equipment stopped what she was doing and looked at where the sound suddenly came from. The dead leaves picked up and danced around the old oak tree and the two adults that were under it.

"Auntie Amber," both John and Amber looked up. "Why are you talking to John Cena?"

"John and I used to go to school together, sweetie."

"He's John, the one that you had to work on English school work with?" She asked, holding her teddy bear with one hand and pointing at the large man with the other. "But he's…" she didn't dare finish that sentence.

"He's human, honey. I told you, those are just stories they tell on television, to make it more interesting." Amber brought the girl in to her side, draping an arm around her. "Juliet O'Caire, this is John Cena. John, this is my goddaughter, Juliet O'Caire."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cena." Juliet said, holding her hand out to him.

John was mildly surprised, but shook the girl's hand. He was even more surprised at the strength she held behind it.

"We're going out for some hot chocolate, did you want to come?" Amber asked, making John look at her.

"Actually that sounds like a good idea. But I wanted to know something first." He paused, trying to find his words. "Do you still worship Cernunnos, the Celtic horned god of the Wild Hunt."  
She smiled. "I do and a few others. I'll explain when we get to the coffee shop."

"Are we going back to Hex?" Juliet asked.

"We are."

"Cool, we can introduce him to Warrior."

"Warrior?"

"He's the dog we rescued from the shelter." Amber smiled slightly as they began walking towards her red jeep parked on the curb.

Coming home to a past that was always strange was not something John had expected, no matter how many times he came back before. But now, now was different. He found himself opening up again, to someone who was always strong, and quick witted. Someone who knew where she stood and where she was going, her confidence was always there, it hadn't left her even if he had. Who knows, maybe coming back to the past and digging up lost memories would take him to where he needed to be.


End file.
